A Crack in the Stone Wall
by SDCdancer101
Summary: When Sherlock ends up in a coma, he must make some very tough decisions... Some that may change everything... I suck at summaries so apologies in advance XD Please rate a review!
1. Chapter 1

John Watson never cried. Even though there were times when he felt the dam that was holding back his tears was about to burst, he never shed a tear. Serving as Captain of the Royal Army Medical Corps in Afghanistan taught him that he must push his emotions to the side and focus at the task at hand, no matter how much it breaks him inside. John always suppressed his emotions; trapping the demons that haunt him in a dark place within his soul. He knows that one day they will break free, but when, he wasn't sure. Yet underneath the facade of bravery, there was only a terrified, damaged man known as John Hamish Watson.

However, this… this isn't war in Afghanistan… This isn't going against the enemy in a battle, putting his life on the line for the sake of his country. This is watching his best friend, his partner in crime, his rock, lying in a hospital bed, the only sounds heard being the _woosh, click, and hum_ of the nasal cannula under his friend's nose and the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor that was assuring John that Sherlock's heart was still beating.

For a man that once stood so tall, eyes like ice that could see even the tiniest of details at a crime scene, long black coat billowing in the wind with his collars turned up, Sherlock looked like a shadow of his former self. His skin looked as pale as the bodies he could be found whipping and flogging in the morgue of Saint Bart's Hospital.

John looked up at Sherlock, his eyes red and puffy from crying,

"Damn it Sherlock! Open your eyes. Stop this now, You need to stop this. Please… for me… Now stop being a jerk and open your damn eyes Sherlock!" John pleaded, not knowing if Sherlock could even hear him.

 _John….._

That was the first word that came to mind when Sherlock opened his eyes. He looked around, and realized he was back at 221B, lying on the couch.

 _Strange, I don't remember coming back here…._

Suddenly, memories come flooding back, playing like a movie in Sherlock's head.

It was dark, and it had just rained. Sherlock and John were chasing after a suspected serial killer, who was only visible under the dim glow of the streetlights. Sherlock did not have enough time to react as he watched 2 bright headlights coming towards him at an alarming speed. The next thing he knew, his body met the car and he was up in the air before crashing down to the wet ground at an awkward angle.

He flinched as he heard gunshots, figuring that John had taken care of the serial killer and the driver of the vehicle that had plowed into him just moments before. Everything after that blurred together, and he could faintly hear John talking to him as some paramedics lifted him onto the stretcher.

"Sherlock you will be fine, just don't close your eyes."

Sherlock knew he shouldnt have closed his eyes, but the sweet embrace of unconsciousness continued to pull at him until he had no choice but to give in. Once he was pulled under, he had no idea that in the real world, his heart had stopped and the paramedics were doing everything in their power to start it again. Sherlock had no idea that John was sitting there, mentally willing Sherlock to just take a breath, and exhaling deeply when he heard the beeping of the heart monitor. The last thing he saw was himself laying in the hospital bed while John was crying.

Sherlock got up off of the couch, walking around to see if there were any clues as to how he got back to the flat. He looked out the window, confused to see that there were no people outside. Baker Street was empty, completely void of cars and people. Everything became clear when he turned around and saw Jim Moriarty sitting nonchalantly in his chair, twirling around the IOU apple which was stuck on the apple coring tool.

"Miss me?"

To be continued….


	2. Chapter 2

_Previously in A Crack in the Stone Wall…_

 _Sherlock got up off of the couch, walking around to see if there were any clues as to how he got back to the flat. He looked out the window, confused to see that there were no people outside. Baker Street was empty, completely void of cars and people. Everything became clear when he turned around and saw Jim Moriarty sitting nonchalantly in his chair, twirling around the IOU apple which was stuck on the apple coring tool._

" _Miss me?"..._

Moriarty stared at Sherlock, his cocky and nefarious smirk exaggerating the deadness in his eyes.

"Oh Sherlock, so _lovely_ to see you again… We have a bit of… catching up to do…" Moriarty sneered, getting up from Sherlock's chair.

For the first time in his life, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, was speechless.

"M-Moriarty… How did you… What are you doing here? H-how did I get back to the flat?" Sherlock stuttered. He mentally scolded himself for not keeping his composure in front of his arch-enemy, but it was impossible that Moriarty was alive. Sherlock had watched from close range as Moriarty shot himself on the roof of St Bart's hospital. There was no doubt that Jim Moriarty was dead, yet here he was, staring at Sherlock like he could see right through him.

"Oh, my dear Sherlock. You thought you'd seen the last of me, did you?" Moriarty walked around the room slowly, never taking his eyes off of Sherlock. His eyes locked on Sherlock's like a predator stalking its prey. Picking up the skull from the mantel, Moriarty studied it for a moment before turning back to Sherlock.

"You really haven't figured it out yet, have you? Do I need to spell it out for you?"

After a moment of looking around, Sherlock came to a realization…

"We're in my mind palace…"

"Bingo!" Moriarty declared. "Let's see if the great Sherlock Holmes can figure this out!"

Sherlock took a deep breath, then sighed, "I was hit by a car, taken to St Barts… I must be in a coma…But, what are you doing in my mind palace? And how do I get out?"

Moriarty let out a laugh and sat back down in Sherlock's chair, folding his hands in his lap. "Let's play a game, Sherlock."

"What type of sick, twisted game could you have possibly come up with?" Sherlock inquired. Moriarty was known for his elaborate mind games, and Sherlock knew that he could outsmart him, but they were in _his head._ Moriarty had somehow cemented himself in Sherlock's subconscious mind. How could Sherlock outsmart someone who was inside his thoughts?

"Oh don't worry Sherlock, the game is fairly simple. You must make choices. Make the wrong choice, and your physical health declines. You mustn't make too many incorrect choices, wouldn't want to leave poor John all alone. How about we make things a bit more interesting? Let's make it a race." Moriarty stated, his voice oddly giddy for a man who was threatening Sherlock's life. Sherlock knew he had no other choice…

"The game is on…"

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

_Previously in A Crack in the Stone Wall…_

 _"Oh don't worry Sherlock, the game is fairly simple. You must make choices. Make the wrong choice, and your physical health declines. You mustn't make too many incorrect choices, wouldn't want to leave poor John all alone. How about we make things a bit more interesting? Let's make it a race." Moriarty stated, his voice oddly giddy for a man who was threatening Sherlock's life. Sherlock knew he had no other choice…_

 _"The game is on…"_

* * *

Blinded by a bright light, Sherlock stumbled backwards. When he opened his eyes, it took him a moment to realize where he was: his childhood home. He looked around, noticing how everything appeared exactly the same as it had when he was a small child. A familiar barking brought him out of his musings as his old dog, Redbeard came running from around the corner.

"Redbeard! Come here boy! Good dog!" Sherlock said as he excitedly pet his beloved dog.

Sherlock smiled as happy childhood memories came back to him. He remembered playing in the field with Redbeard for hours until his mother called him inside to eat. He remembered cuddling Redbeard whenever there was a thunder storm...

Suddenly, the sunny, cloudless sky, was replaced by a dark clouded, thunder and lightning filled, rainstorm. Redbeard was no longer in front of Sherlock, but was running towards the street. Sherlock instantly realized what was happening. This was one of the memories he had suppressed, and this is the first choice he had to make. He watched in horror as Redbeard ran out into the street, not noticing the 2 bright headlights that were coming closer and closer. Sherlock tried to chase after his beloved dog, in order to save his life, but he was too late. A pained bark filled the air as his painful memory played out in front of him.

The next thing he knew, Sherlock was sitting in the vet's office. Redbeard lied on the table, whimpering in pain, and the veterinarian walked in with a syringe. Sherlock prayed that he wouldnt have to go through this again, but his prayers were useless as he watched the vet put down his best friend.

* * *

"Code Blue! Get a crash cart!"

John had fallen asleep in the chair beside Sherlock's hospital bed, and was abruptly woken up by the loud alarm coming from the monitor. He watched as a team of doctors and nurses rushed in and began to resuscitate his best friend. It was as if he were frozen in place, paralyzed with the fear of losing Sherlock. He was escorted out of the room so that the doctors could have more space.

About 10 minutes, later, the door to Sherlock's room opened and the main doctor came out.

"Sherlock is stable now, Dr. Watson. We were about to call time of death, but we got a spontaneous heart beat back. We will be monitoring him closely so this will not happen again." The doctor informed John, before walking away.

John could only nod in response before the doctor walked away. He began to walk back into Sherlock's room when he noticed something that he hadnt noticed before… Sherlock's hospital room number.

"Well I'll be damned…" John muttered, actually managing a small smirk.

The door to Sherlock's hospital room read 221-B floor. He had been so pre-occupied with Sherlock's health that he hadn't thought to look at the room number. With a shake of his head, John walked back into the room, re-claiming his seat next to the bed.

* * *

Sherlock stood in a completely white room. There was no door, and no windows. Suddenly, he heard Moriarty's voice booming and echoing around him,

"I told you Sherlock, you mustn't make the wrong choice, or take too long to decide. I told you the rules of the game, and I told you the consequences. The clock is ticking. Tick...Tock….Sherlock…"

To be continued….


End file.
